When I felt ready, I left the tub and dried off. Wrapping a drying cloth around me, I entered the opposite room and spotted a stack of shimmery fabric folded atop my pallet.
As I lifted the cloth, I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt fabric so silky and light. What was it made from? The blue robes were trimmed in silver brocade with crystals worked into the pattern.
Turning the robes around, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to put them on. Did I wrap them around me? Were there fasteners of some sort? And what were the smaller pieces for? Were they undergarments?
I shifted the fabric around, putting pieces together atop the pallet until I arranged them to look like some semblance of clothing, with the smaller, form fitting pieces beneath the larger robes.
I pulled on the top piece first, then the bottom, then the smaller robe that fell to my knees. The final piece—the larger robe, was the only clothing that remained. I lifted it, turning it from front to back, then threaded my arms through the long, dramatic sleeves. Its hem swept the ground.
A brush also sat on my pallet, and I picked it up, then combed through my long strands, working through the tangles until my hair shone.
“Are you ready?” Anahita’s voice came from outside the tent.
“I think so,” I called to her.
She entered, carrying a handful of jeweled necklaces and bracelets that glinted in the candlelight. She placed them on the pallet, then straightened to look at me.
“Have I put them on correctly?” I asked.
She smiled. “Almost. The re’hushka is backwards. Here, let me help you.” She removed the larger robe, then the smaller one, turned it around, and put it on me again.
“There,” she said, standing back. “Perfect. I’ve brought a few things for you. See what you think?” She picked up the handful of jewels and held them out for my inspection.
“They’re lovely, but I can’t wear any of these. They must cost a fortune.”
“They’re of little value to anyone anymore. Outlander jewels have grown out of fashion everywhere but here. What about this one?”
She picked up a piece that could have been a necklace, yet it was too complicated, with long golden strands and turquoise jewels that formed two points, holding all the strands together, almost like a spider web.
“This goes on your head. Like this.” She lifted it up and placed it on my head, then straightened one of the jeweled pieces to fit at the center of my forehead, with the golden strands looping behind me, and the other jeweled piece resting at the back of my head.
“Beautiful,” she said. “I’ve a mirror somewhere.” She searched through the stacks on the shelves until she pulled out a mirror of polished copper. I took it from her and looked into it. Gasping, I hardly recognized myself. Turquoise crystals glinted from my headpiece, matching my hair and eyes. I glanced down at my dress that flowed around my feet, rustling as I moved, the silver brocade shimmering. The bodice hugged my waist and chest, and the V neckline, embroidered with the same silver thread, plunged to just above my breasts—not enough to be revealing, but more formal and daring than anything I’d worn before.
“I should let you know,” Anahita said, “Raj is with his family now, but they’re celebrating in our village gathering place. Your other friends are with him. Shall I take you there?”
“Yes, except I think we’ve forgot one thing. I have no shoes.”
She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “You’ve no need of shoes here. But I have brought this.” Searching through her pile of jewels, she held up a band that looked like a bracelet. Small silver discs jangled as she held it up.
“Do you dance?” she asked.
“Dance? No. Not really.”
“I think you should like to try. Everyone dances here. Would you like to wear this?”
“Okay.” I held out my arm, but she chuckled quietly, then knelt and attached the bracelet to my ankle, looped a leather strand through my toes, then attached it to the piece around my ankle.
“There,” she said, standing. “I believe you’re ready. Follow me.” She turned and exited the tent. I followed, feeling a bit foolish for wearing so much jewelry and sweeping, colorful robes. I’d never been so decorated in my life, and I felt a bit like a jester in a costume.
The ankle jewelry jangled with every footstep as I left the tent and entered the village. The sights and smells barraged my senses from every direction. As evening descended over the village, I realized I was finally getting my chance to experience the city of Al-Maar.
People and children talked and laughed, crowding around their tents or fires, wearing robes of all colors. Purples, oranges, and blues jumped out at me. A gentle breeze carried the spiced scent of curry. The peppery aroma seemed to come from everywhere, not only from the cooking pots sitting atop the fires, but from the air, the sand, the clothing, and oilskin tents. It was as if the spice had infused with the culture, flavoring it with its brilliant burst of life.
Lazy rays of orange sunlight stretched across the sky, lengthening from one end to the other, not rushing to set as I followed Anahita through the tents, and then to an area that led into the old city.
Not much remained of the towers and spires that had once risen over the city. Most lay in ruins, piles of rubble that Anahita deftly moved around, her hips swishing back and forth. I followed slowly, still feeling weak, although none of the pain lingered. I had that to be grateful for.
Sand shifted beneath my bare feet as we entered an area that could have once been a town square. Skeletal buildings rose into the air, their windows empty
